Morrowind Live
by Faronon Star Wolf
Summary: A girl's fight against Dagoth Ur, evil, and MarySueism. [Discontinued]
1. Morrowind Live

**Morrowind Live**

By Faronon Star Wolf

**_Author's note:_** _This story was written for a class assignment, my perfect day, as might be gathered from the lack-of-profanity. During the course of writing this abomination, though, I found I enjoyed writing it too much just to leave it at the three pages that my teacher set as the cut-off point. So, I think I'll keep writing this, although there will be no estimations as to when the next chapter will be out._

_If you want more... Well, that's what reviews are for! Either that or prod me over AIM._

This was impossible. It was totally inconceivable, yet it was happening none-the-less. Despite seeing and smelling and hearing, I still could not grasp the reality of it all.

It started when I was trying to decided what to do in the five hours until CSI started, and my eyes fell on the precariously balanced case of Morrowind. The original reason that the game had interested me was the ability to become a werewolf, but by now, nearly a year after I first played it at a friend's house, I loved the whole game system. Before I put the disk into the CD drive, however, I opened a new window of Internet Explorer and looked for new mods. I downloaded a few that added new houses to Balmora and a few weapon-strength modifiers, and I was about to close the window and install them when the one at the bottom of the page caught my eye.

"'MORROWIND LIVE. Have you ever wanted to live the adventures of your characters?'" I read out loud from the mod description. '"With this mod, you can!'? Oh, for the love of..." I grumbled at the absurdity. '"After the next time you sleep in real life, you'll wake up on the prison ship to Seyda Neen'? And this works how...? Honestly." I snorted in disbelief, and almost clicked on the exit button, but curiosity got the best of me and I clicked on the download button instead.

The installation of the mods took little time, and soon I had the launch window for Morrowind open. I began activating the new mods, and hesitated over the file for the Morrowind Live mod before shrugging in annoyance and double clicking on it.

The familiar Bethseda logo began scrolling across the screen and I pressed the escape button to skip it. The program helpfully alerted me to the fact that it was loading the Morrowind quest files and the mods, and I tapped my fingers against the table as I waited. Patience was not a virtue I had in large amounts.

The main screen slowly faded in, accompanied by the Morrowind theme, and I chose to start a new game instead of playing one of my existing characters.

Impatiently, I skipped the opening movie, already planning what groups I would join. The Mages Guild and the Thieves Guild, of course, and perhaps the Morag Tong this time, because the thought of playing an assassin was interesting.

I breezed through the character making process, creating a female Wood Elf with black hair and a tattooed face.

The game froze when I told my character to pick up the scroll containing my the information, and I nearly shrieked with rage when the familiar 'This Program Must Close' window appeared on the screen. Of all the nerve! It had _never _crashed during the tutorial portion before - it _had _to be the fault of that stupid mod.

I glowered as I clicked on the 'Don't report error' button and resisted the urge to throw the Morrowind CD across the room, and slumped on my bed instead. I sat, stared at the ceiling, and fumed. I reached for a book and tried to lose myself in it, but the annoyance wouldn't go away. Yawning, I finally marked my place and lay back, drowsiness pushing my lingering anger aside. I finally drifted off to sleep.

And woke what felt like almost immediately, staring around myself at rough wooden walls, feeling the rising and falling of a ship at sea. I could almost believe that some one was speaking in my ear.

Many fall, but one remains.

_By the nine tails of Mahtong, _I thought franticly, ignoring the fact that I was making a reference to the story I was writing, and I took a deep breath.

A deep voice called from the other side of the room, and I stared in astonishment as a man with charcoal grey skin and glowing red eyes turned to face me. "You were dreaming," he said, his voice sounding nothing like the one the game had given him. He was, of course, Jiub. A dark elf—Dunmer, to the natives of Vvardenfell, or Morrowind, as the people of the Empire knew it. "Your name is Lilindra, correct?" I only had time to nod silently before he continued. "You've been asleep the whole trip. I heard them say we've reached Morrowind, I'm sure they'll let us go."

I nodded again, then turned away and stared blankly at the walls, mentally fighting the thought that this was anything more then a dream. Soon I noticed that the music I associated with Morrowind was missing, replaced with the sound of silence and waves. A pinch to my arm brought tears of pain to my eyes and the sinking feeling this was real. Footsteps approached with a militaristic rhythm to them, and I knew it was the guard coming to take me - or rather, Lilindra, to the shore, to be processed and charged to see Casius in Balmora, where I would secretly join the Blades, openly join the Mages Guild, and, while not spoken of, it would be widely known I was a member of the Thieves Guild.

"You're being released. Come with me." I stood and followed, realizing at that moment that while I understood the language, it had a different—feeling—to it then English. I was too lost in thought to notice the layout of the ship, instead following the human guard. He was an Imperial, one of the four races that the humans of this world were divided into. "Get yourself on deck. Let's keep things civil," the guard spoke harshly, breaking through my thoughts, and I realized with start that I stood at the base of the ladder. I climbed clumsily, and pushed open the trap door to stand on deck, inhaling the smell of the ocean and the smoke of cooking fires, and looked around. The docks looked different then they had in the game, and that wavelets splashed up against the rocky shore.

"Head down to the dock. He'll show you to the Census Office." I followed the guard's instructions, knowing that soon I would be free to explore the town more thoroughly then I could on a computer, and the thought of trying stuff like scibb jerky or kwama cuttle was interesting. Of course, finding out if the sload soap was really soap was a trivial question that had been plaguing me since I had started playing Morrowind.

"You've finally arrived," the guard said when he was within five feet of me. I looked at him, noticing that he and everything looked smoother and more realistic. The Imperial regarded me closely, then nodded. "You come from the forests south of Mournhold, don't you?"

"I... yes. How did you know?" I stuttered the lie out, surprised by his question. _Ack, my voice sounds different. I wonder if I can actually sing well now..._

"Your tattoo," he replied, flashing me a smile. "I used to live in Mournhold, and Bosmer with tattoos like yours would come every so often to trade. Anyway, I'm sure you'll fit right in. Follow me to the Census Office, and they'll finish your release."

I followed the man to the building, and returned his smile when he opened the door for me with an exaggerated bow. Inside of the room, however, I bit my lip with sudden anxiety. The Breton sitting at the desk turned around at the sound of the door closing, and gestured for me to approach impatiently. As I approached apprehensively, I looked around, and noticed the lack of a guard next to the door into the hallway.

"I am Socucius Ergalla. You'll need to be recorded before you're officially released." he said self-importantly. His voice was nasal and high-pitched, giving the impression that he was younger then he really was. "You were trained as a rogue before you were caught, weren't you?" Socucius spoke mockingly, like the right and mighty mage he thought he was, and I gritted my teeth and nodded curtly. "The letter that proceeded you mentioned you were born under a certain sign. And what would that be?" The mocking note in his voice hadn't left.

I gave him a flat look, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "The Lady," I finally answered. He nodded tensely and wrote quickly on a scroll. Socucius blew on the ink to dry it and rolled the paper up loosely.

"Show your papers to the Captain when you exit to get your release fee," he said, and I thought I saw a trace of nervousness in his face before he turned away.

I picked up the scroll from the edge of the desk and walked through the door into a hallway. Taking the first right turn, I sighed when I noticed that the iron dagger and the apprentice's lock pick were missing from the table they were on in the game. I regarded the note that was always pinned to the wood of the table by the blade of the dagger balefully, and walked through, ignoring everything else for the thought of getting through this building and beginning to explore.

Outside, I had put one hand on the doorknob before remembering to check the barrel for the confiscated ring of the Wood Elf Fargoth. After I pried off the cover, my lips curled as I regarded the algae-covered water, and decided to see what Sellus Gravius, the Captain, had to say.

The interview took a very short time. I had been ordered to find Casius Cosades in Balmora, and I was given two packages to deliver to him. I picked them up and started toward the exit, even more impatient now that the end was in sight.

"Wait," the Captain said, and he handed me a traveler's bag. "There's two days worth of food in there, and two hundred drakes. Buy yourself a weapon. Also, return this ring to Fargoth. He's a Bosmer, like yourself." I nodded and pocketed the ring, and turned back to the door.

As I placed one hand against wood worn smooth by many hands, I realized with a start that I no longer had any doubts that this was real. The hair that hung at the corners of my eyes was black rather than light blonde, and I was taller than I had been.

I looked up at the sun and smiled.

Even if this ended up being a dream, I was going to enjoy it to the fullest!


	2. Gollum Impressions and Spilled Drinks

**Morrowind Live**

By Faronon Star Wolf

_**Author's Note: **Well, this chapter was fun to write. Short, because this is how much felt like it could stand alone as a chapter, but still. Anyway. Once again, no estimate on when the next chapter will be out. Review or prod me over AIM if you think it's taking too long to be written._

It hadn't been even one minute before a movement out of the corner of my eye alerted me, too late, that someone was approaching. I stared into manically wide eyes that were a mere five inches away from mine and wondered if there was any chance that I could get away with murder.

"You!" Fargoth nearly shrieked. "You were on the boat, you talked to those damn soldiers! What did they tell you about my ring?"

I gave him a look that people had described as making me look like I was trying to decide the best place to start slicing, regarding the pockmarks that covered his narrow face. _That_ most certainly wasn't visible in the game. _Yuck. He smells like he hasn't bathed in a week._

"If you have a question for me, you will ask it in a calm voice, and politely," I replied, pushing past him. I couldn't help grinning at his indignant sputtering, but any amusement I felt fell away when he grabbed my shoulder. I moved so fast even _I_ didn't know what was going on until Fargoth lay on the ground, clutching his jaw, and I discretely rubbed my sore knuckles. "And don't touch me." I spun on my heel and came face to face with an Imperial Guard who was trying his hardest to keep a stern face. I sighed and reached for my bag, but a cough caused me to look up at him.

"Ah, miss, as it seems you've just arrived here, I think it would be fair to waive the fee for this once. Besides," he continued in a conspiratorial whisper, a grin on his face, "you've just done what everyone here has been wishing to do!"

"I... thank you." I blinked, before remembering the ring that I had slipped into one of the pouches attached to my belt. Having dug through all but one, I finally pulled it out and asked Fargoth if this was the ring he was talking about.

"Yes! My ring! Please, return it to me... It is precious, so _very_ precious..." he began, and I stared in disbelief as what he said sounded more like Gollum with every word.

To cut off any more babbling, I threw the ring and watched with amusement as it bounced off his head, and he scrabbled to get it before it rolled into the water. I turned to the guard as the Bosmer kneeled, whimpering over the dirt on his ring, and spoke. "I suppose that was Fargoth," I asked dryly.

"Indeed it was, lady," he replied with a charming smile and a twinkle in his eye. "So. How may I help you find your way around town?"

"I need to buy a weapon," I started, thinking, and then continued with a bright smile. "And perhaps a strong drink." _I have no clue what the drinking age is here, but even if I can't buy anything, I can always raid the bases of bandits! The question is, will I like it?_

The guard gave me a dubious look before answering. "The drinks we have probably aren't up to your tastes, miss, but you can find both at Arrille's Tradehouse..."

I thanked him and left, humming, as I went in search of weapons and drinks.

Carting my new longbow and arrows, I couldn't stop smiling as I looked for a place to sit down and drink the bottle of Shein I bought. Finally I decided to sit on the bridge, and I uncorked the bottle with anticipation...

Only to jump in surprise when a hand dropped onto my shoulder.

"For the love of crap!" I shrieked, knocking the bottle over, causing it to roll into the stream and empty its contents into the water. I watched in dismay at the growing dark stain in the water, and then turned with an evil glare to the person who surprised me. A tall Nord cringed at the fury that must have been in my eyes, and he cleared his throat nervously. _Yeah, you'd _better_ be afraid. Bastard._

"You... came in on the boat, did you not...?" he finally spoke, not growing anymore confident with my irate nod. "I have a job for you, if you are interested..."

I sighed, and with one more mournful look at the bottle in the stream, stood, where I came to the realization that, compared to him, I was short. _I hate tall people._

"Fargoth has a hiding place somewhere in town, I want you to find it. He hasn't been paying me the...fines that he owes," he began quietly. "I know he wanders the town at night, so if you go to the lighthouse you should have a good view of the town. Find it, take everything, then return to me. I'll be upstairs in Arrille's Tradehouse."

He left as quietly as he arrived, and I stared blankly at his back before shaking my head and turning to leave. A glance at the sun revealed that it was about noon. I cursed under my breath and started for the exit of the town, thinking to pass time by slaughtering the poor, defenseless, monsters. _Yeah right._

I walked north along the path, humming ceaselessly, then sighed. "Damn. It's been..." Glancing at the sun again, I hazarded a guess, "thirty minutes. Half an hour and I miss my CD player. Damn it. It's been half an hour and I don't know how I'll survive without a watch. And what the hell is up with this? I'm actually _here,_ in Morrowind, and I end up spilling some legally bought Shein. One could think that there's some force out there that's against me drinking. Sure, if it had been stolen, perhaps, but it was just one bottle, it couldn't have been that bad—" A scream interrupted my monologue, and, looking up, my mouth dropped open in surprise. A book hit me squarely on the forehead, and I fell like a brick.


	3. Suicidal Books, Outlaws, and Real People

Morrowind Live 

By Faronon Star Wolf

_**Author's Note:** Well, the election sucked. Anyway._

_As a note for future chapters... This story really shouldn't be taken seriously. I mock; it's how I amuse myself. I even mock _myself_, it should be noted. Not much is safe from being mocked, religion included. If that makes you stop reading this story, then you aren't the kind of reader I want._

_For all the alchemy ingredients, I'm going by the icon and my imagination. _

_In other news, I'm bringing in other "real life" people. Srath isn't based on anyone. I am, of course, myself. If you're interested in being in here, feel free to send a character description, or better yet, a screenshot, but in the end I'm going to be the one to decide on which characters, if any, are in the story, and how they act. It is, after all, _my_ story._

_By the way, can anyone name the movie I quote in here?_

I opened my eyes to light. Bright light. Oh, and don't forget the result of blunt-force trauma to the head. _Hiss._ It took an enormous effort to try to perform the ever-so-difficult moved Protect-Eyes-From-Burning-Ball-Of-Gas-In-The-Sky, and I succeeded. _Take that, spawn of darkness. Even though it _is_ a source of light..._

"Oh, Lord, why hath thou forsaken me?" I asked out loud. _And if he were real, he'd probably be saying something like "Bcuz j00 n0t a blievr!!! I pwn j00!" Bastard._ "Oh, and I bet you're the one behind the spilling of the Shein!"

"I beg your pardon?" a smooth, cultured male voice asked from a few bajillion miles overhead.

"Ugh. Nothing. That would be a book to the forehead at mach one talking, I think. Though I'm not sure if mach one is how fast it was going... and I highly doubt you people here know what mach one is. I'm not sure I remember what it is, either." Forcing my eyes open, I stared up at a blurry confused face. "Never mind. Just... wander off and come back in a while. A long while. Say a few years. Maybe next century. And... oh, crap."_ I'm babbling. Wonder if this is what a concussion feels like...? And, ow, head. Pain. Ugh. How did I manage to forget about that in the first place? That would be a handy trick... _I groaned and dropped my arm back over my eyes. I was in too much pain to be dreaming, I knew.

"M'lady, I do not think that you should be left out here alone," he began, concern obvious in his voice. _Damn pushy patronizing bastard sonnavabitch... Cute, from what I could make out, though..._

"Bug off. I doubt I'll die," I snarled, not caring about the fact I was probably alienating him. _Ohfortheloveofcrap. I'm stuck in a videogame, my legally acquired Shein got spilled by that tall bastard Hrisskar, I get _hit_ by a _book_ in the middle of a goddamn _swamp_, and now I've got a patronizing whatever-the-hell-he-is hovering like a fat man in a hammock! And I have a headache the size of Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens combined, oh, and let's throw in Mount Everest for good measure! And that one in Hawaii, too! Where's my Naproxine when I need it?!_ At his ever-so eloquent silence, I snarled at him to wait down the path, where he could surely see me.

The pain in my neck and shoulders began easing as I relaxed, and soon I was limp, merely soaking in the sun's warmth. I decided, after what seemed like a few hours later, to sit up and get out of the path before someone came and rolled over me. _Do they have carriages here? Wait—yes, the opening said that, I think... Damn headache._ That was when I encountered my first—or rather, second—problem.

_Oh, great. First the headache, now my body rebels._ "Hey—uh, sir?" I called out, pushing myself as far off the ground as I could, a mere ten inches, and looked around. _Uh oh, dead body at my feet – oh, hey, I'll bet that's Tarhiel. Wonder if I can get any Icarus-whatsit scrolls from him—Hmm. I wonder if the name refers to the myth... Ugh, whatever. _"Look, mister--! Mister! Can we have our ball back?" I muttered to myself, easing back to the ground. Naturally, I was quoting. Very fun, you know. I think the blow to my head knocked the script of that movie to the front of my head. I'd certainly seen it enough times.

Unable to stop myself, I started humming along to "I Should Have Known Better", tapping my fingers against the hard-packed earth of the path in, well, less-than perfect time. Nobody said that rhythm was one of my strong points.

"Whoa whoa I," I started off, a grin widening when I heard—yes!—that my voice easily handled the notes I sang it at – an octave above where the Beatles had. "Never realized what a kiss could be, this could only happen to me, can't you see, can't you see? That when I tell you when I love you, oh, you're gonna say you love me too..." A throat cleared above me and I opened my eyes to stare into the face of one of _the_ most attractive Dunmer I've ever seen. _Don't drool don't drool don't drool..._ I blinked amusedly at the black triangle tattoos on his cheeks and his russet brown hair. It was the ridiculous goatee on his chin that finally threw my mind into gear, and I glanced down at his bonemold cuirass. _Why, oh _why_ did it have to be _him Finally I threw a careless smile on my face and met his measuring red eyes. "My, such a surprise meeting you here, Nels Llendo," I managed to say, mentally cursing how weakly it came out.

I was not, however, without reward. His eyebrows rose swiftly, and he quickly re-examined me, though he didn't seem to find anything new. An oddly emotionless mask covered his face, and he replied guardedly, "You have the advantage, madam."

"Huh?—oh. Yeah, that. I'm—Lilindra," I replied, remembering at the last second that that was what I was going to need to answer to here. _Dammit, why didn't I just use Faronon? _That_ I know well enough to answer to—Oh, yeah, it's not _fantasy_ enough._ Damn me and my obsession with fitting names to the surroundings.

"And, m'lady Lilindra, where are you from?" I wondered at the suspicious look in his eyes, but then I remembered that this man was an outlaw. _Oh, yeah. There is that._

"Well, I just got off a boat in Seyda Neen," I temporized, and then continued with a shrug. "Before that, all I can remember clearly is a storm. I don't remember much about my life other then what I was trained as and the sign I was born under." And it was all true. I didn't remember much about _this_ life.

By his narrowed eyes, I could tell that he knew I was telling truth, just not the whole of it. I forced a half smile.

"By the way, could you help me out of the path? I'd really rather not be squished by a run away guar... carriage... silt strider... whatever."

I was soon leaning against a tree, sitting next to an outlaw, and asking questions very cheerfully, learning a lot about the surrounding area... including how to tell the difference between the edible hypha facia fungus and the poisonous bungler's bane. The hypha facia was smoother and had less variation in the coloring, while the bungler's bane had small ridges on the top, and, in addition to the coloring, had an almost mint-like scent, however that happened. I had a feeling I would need to know how to tell them apart.

In return, Nels Llendo inquired as to what I was doing out of Seyda Neen when I seemed unable to take care of myself (I innocently mentioned that I had floored Far-from-gothic—er, Fargoth, earlier, and got an annoyingly incredulous look. I nearly punched him, too.), and at my simple reply of "Wasting time," he asked further.

"Well, it started like this..." I began, explaining about Hrisskar's request to find Fargoth's hiding spot, and mentioned that I thought I knew where it was, but I wasn't going to go wading through algae-ridden water just to check a hunch. I got a weird look. "What?"

"You are... rather fastidious." At the way he said it, I growled and demanded an explanation of why that was so bad. "Well... M'lady, if you are so squeamish at that, I do not think that you will get very far here."

"What do you mean?" The edge in my voice was as sharp as the blade of a glass longsword, and he could tell.

"Could you kill?" he asked bluntly, and I stared at him.

"I..." Biting my lip, I looked toward the path, at the still body of Tarhiel. There was a reek of urine in the air, and I silently asked myself if I could be the one to force that release of waste with death, the smell of blood and piss and feces combining, wide eyes staring unseeing at the sky, limp limbs and torn flesh, done by _my_ hand—

And I knew. _I_ couldn't. But Lilindra, perhaps, could.

An ironic smile twisted my face. _Child of civilization, meet bloodthirsty alter ego._

"Yes, I think I could."

The silence after my answer was long, and uncomfortable. Finally I brought my feet under myself, and forced myself to stand. A wave of dizziness hit me and I stumbled forward, catching my balance at the last minute. Nels Llendo had stood, ready to catch me if I needed it, but he wasn't expecting me to need his aid. _Okay, so maybe he isn't _that_ patronizing..._

I smiled, reset my footing in an attempt to stop wobbling, and turned to face him. "Thank you for your help." Something changed in his face, and only with the greatest effort managed to keep a smile on my face. _Erk._

"If I can be of any more... _help_..." he smiled suggestively, "...you will be able to find me at the Halfway Tavern in Pelagiad."

I stared after him as he swaggered off, one eye twitching. Finally I screamed "HENTAI NO BAKA--!" and, after realizing what I said, slapped myself on the forehead. Which, of course, meant hitting the bruise on my forehead. The end result of _that_ was that I collapsed on the ground again, clutching my head and hoping the headache would go away.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it. I've almost broken myself of that evil, evil habit, and _one_ sentence from _one_ person brings it back." I moaned to myself for a while about the return of my habit of randomly using Japanese in English sentences—well, in this case, whatever the language of this planet was. And, damn it, I don't even _know_ what this planet is called!

I finally started back towards town, figuring that passing time there, while less interesting, might be better in that I wouldn't have to worry about suicidal books. I paused at Tarhiel's body, going through the various pockets and pouches on his robes, looking for some loot. _I swear I've read somewhere that's where 'woot' is from, 'whoo! Loot!" Or something. Whatever. I want money! Or pointies._

And pointies I found. Latched onto his belt was an iron dagger, and I removed it and the sheath, figuring that I needed something for close-range fighting. After giving it some thought, I rigged a way for it to be concealed in what I felt was the most logical place for a concealed knife.

Unfortunately, his stash of Scrolls of Icarus Flight weren't there, and along with the lack of gold, I guessed that he either left them wherever he started the test from, or Nels Llendo had taken them. _Bastard._

With an evil glare at Tarhiel's journal, I turned toward town, walking slowly to keep my balance. A return of my headache left me squinting against the afternoon sunlight and grumbling. I saw kwama foragers, scribs, and mudcrabs off the path, but I passed them without being noticed, and soon arrived back at town.

Fargoth's reaction to the large bruise on my forehead was to laugh hysterically, but an evil glare and threatening movements towards my bow and arrows shut him up. I got to the lighthouse and climbed without further comment, and soon I was slumped against the fire pit, dozing.

"It's, ah, prohibited to sleep here..." a soft voice said hesitantly, and I shrugged, not opening my eyes.

"And I'm not. I've got a headache."

"Well, could you at least sit up?" Hm. Sounds female...ish. Oh, god, maybe it's Ben Nancy from that story assignment in creative writing, come for revenge! Quickly, I shook the thought of transvestite social studies teachers who had been eaten by cannibowls... er, cannibals... out of my mind, and obeyed the request. I drew myself up from my sprawled position and sat with crossed-legs for a few seconds before leaning forward and resting my forehead against the wooden platform. "...That isn't sitting up."

"Well, excuse me," I muttered in irritation, shifting so I lay on my stomach and, opening my eyes to squint against the sun, looked at the person talking. "Oh, hey, you're a guy."

"Ah, thank you for stating the obvious... That is a _lovely_ bruise... where'd you get it?" Long, soft-looking silver hair curled over a narrow, vaguely blue face and pointed ears, and the addition of pale purple eyes gave the impression he was a creature of ice and snow. I lifted my eyebrows when he moved to sit beside me, because the way he moved gave the impression he was uncomfortable in his body.

"A book," I replied glibly, and bit my lip, deciding to take a chance. "...Bush or Kerry?"

His eyes widened and he looked at me, shocked, before smiling broadly. "Kerry, definitely. It's a pity Bush won, though. Who'd you vote for?"

I sighed exaggeratedly. "Unfortunately, I'm only seventeen. But, I would have voted for Kerry. Anyway, where are you from?"

"In Oregon, about five minutes from Washington," he replied, "just north of Portland."

"Ah, a fellow native of the land of eternal rain!" I cheered. Yes! A person from real(?) life, from somewhere in the same general area as me.

He introduced both himself and his character as Srath, and we talked for a long time. I learned that we had downloaded many of the same mods, including the Galith mod, which introduced a race that was the decendents of the Falmer, the snow elves. His character was one, and I mentally congratulated him on his choice of face and hair combinations. I heard about the seven days he'd been here, and learned that he had been the first to arrive, but several days ago another boat had arrived with more prisioners to be released.

"Why are they doing that?" I asked him, puzzled, when a thought struck me. "Oh—"

"Yes," Srath replied grimly, "the Nerevarine. Each person so far has had a different birthsign; I'm guessing that Lilindra's is the Lady."

I nodded, deep in thought. "So, that's, what, thirteen people? One of which is going to be the Nerevarine, because I'm positive that we can't _all_ be it."

"That's a given," he smirked, leaning against the fire pit. "'Many fall, but one remains,'" Srath quoted. "The book—" he said suddenly, and I stared at him blankly until he waved a hand toward my forehead. "Tarhiel's journal?"

"Indeed," I grumbled, rubbing the bruise. "The bastard."

"Did you get the Scrolls of Icarus Flight?" he asked with greed in his eyes.

"Nope!" I said, smirking at the pout that appeared on his face. "Actually, I think Nels Llendo might have taken them," I began speaking, but trailed off at the stunned expression on his face. "What?"

"You've already run into _Nels Llendo?_" Srath exclaimed, an almost jealous tone in his voice. I raised an eyebrow at his reaction.

"Yeah, I got a crash course in the fungus of the Bitter Coast region," I replied, blinking when definite jealousy appeared on his face. Almost dreading the answer, I asked, "That... one measure, the one defining marriage?"

He smiled apologetically. "Against, because it affects me."

I sighed, slightly disappointed. "Figures." The first handsome (at least _here_) from-real-life guy I meet is gay. I think fate hates me.


	4. Close Encounters With The Mushroom Kind

**Morrowind Live**

By Faronon Star Wolf

**Author's notes: **_Well, I'm back. Given that this was beginning to be a monster of a chapter, I cut it off a few paragraphs from the end of what I had, at the only reasonable stopping point I could find. And... yeah. This chapter sucks. I'm only posting it because I don't feel like rewriting it._

_Yes, yes I am lazy. How'd you guess?_

_In any case, I guess there'll be another chapter out soon. Maybe._

"Well," I said, breaking the silence that had fell between Srath and I, "Obviously at some point we're going to need to go to Balmora…"

"And you'd rather have someone to travel with," he continued, knowing what I was going to ask before I said it.

"Precisely," I replied, shrugging uncomfortably. "Oh—but first I need to stalk Far-from-being-gothic to find his hiding place."

"Isn't it in that stump?" Srath inquired, one eyebrow raised as he gestured to it the pool of stagnant water.

"It's… all gross and stuff…" I replied, shrugging and blushing. "I'd prefer to stay clean if it's at all possible."

"You," he said, staring at me incredulously, "are odd."

"You're just now figuring that out?" I asked jokingly.

After that, the conversation sort of died, and instead we spent close to two hours playing word games. An imperial guard stared at us with disapproval when she arrived to light the lighthouse, and, sharing a mischievous look, we both waved and addressed her like an old friend.

"Oh," I exclaimed, "it's been years!"

Srath continued, "You look wonderful! How have you been?"

The guard gave us a look like we were maniacs, and we could barely contain our laughter until the door closed behind her.

I flopped backwards on the wooden platform, staring up at the clouds. They were a dark grey, tinged with the barest amount of red, the beginning of the sunset. My fingers tapped absently on the ground, and soon I was humming.

"Do you have ADD or something?" the Galith character asked, looking across Seyda Neen. I cheerfully informed him of my ADHD, and continued tapping out random rhythms. Gradually the music in my head turned to 'World of Make Believe'.

"On golden wings she flies at night," I began singing quietly, growing more confident as I went on. Srath listened silently as I continued. I knew the song by heart, having listened to my Within Temptation CD for weeks on end.

"…in a big oak there is a door, which will lead her to the wizard's shore; and she'll ask him for the wind to sail her home, to the world where she belongs—"

"Wait," Srath interrupted, and my eyes flew open in surprise. "That part—what if it's true?"

"What—oh." I thought about it. "Well… The Telvanni wizards might know something about it, but to get back to real life, it might be required to finish the main quest." I bit my lip. _I am going to hate doing this without god mode… _"Uh… did you read the read-me that came with it?" I smile sheepishly when he gave me a nonplused look.

"And I thought women were supposed to be the ones who read the directions?" he replied. "No, I didn't."

"Well, I was bored!" I protested.

He nodded, completely ignoring it. "Uh huh."

"Oh, shut up," I grumbled.

Our somewhat of an argument was interrupted by a Fargoth sighting.

"Hey, there he is," Srath said, slight interest and disgust inflecting his voice. I sat up hurriedly, and took a second to find him.

"Is that supposed to be a _disguise_ or something?" I asked, slightly disturbed.

Fargoth wore far too much makeup, and a skirt. The obviously false breasts moved far too much to be real, and I had to resist the urge to go down there and throw him into the water.

"I have nothing to say against cross dressers, but that is… sick."

"I know," Srath replied, his eyes bugging out as Fargoth tried sneaking around in his outlandish "disguise".

One guard, our "friend" from earlier, glanced at him, took a better look, and then turned away, shaking her head. Fargoth grinned widely at his supposed success, and continued sidling towards the pond of stagnant water.

"Oh, please, don't…" I moaned, but sighed in relief when he bypassed it and stuck his arm in a hold on a tree near it. He tried withdrawing his arm, but it had gotten stuck in the small hole. Srath stared, fighting a small smirk, but I broke down into laughter, helpless to stop as Fargoth struggled to extract his arm from the tree.

Finally, he pulled his arm out with brute strength, leaving several deep furrows in the flesh of his arm.

Srath winced, and spoke as I tried to get myself under control and stop laughing. "That must hurt," he said, a bit sympathetically, watching as Fargoth shook his arm, sending sprays of blood everywhere.

He scurried away, not looking back, merely cradling his injured arm as he watched the ground intently.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, and then up into a sitting position before the quick movement caused my head to spin.

"Ugh," I moaned, "guess I'm not all better yet…"

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said vaguely, gesturing slightly. "I think it's just the end result of that suicidal book…" Srath stood and offered me a hand, and I took it, ending up being pulled quickly to my feet. Once there, I wavered for a few seconds before my balance returned, and I led the way down the stairs, and then to the tree.

Fargoth wasn't as tall as I was (finally, a short person!), so I was able to peer into the hole and take stock of what was in there.

"Oh, for the love of crap," I snorted, pulling the Engraved Healing Ring from the hole. "He threw such a fit about his ring being missing, and then he leaves it in a tree?"

"Well," Srath replied, "he probably thought that it wouldn't be found."

I shrugged and pocketed it, looking back into the hole. With a broad grin, my hand shot into it again and dragged out a clinking bag.

"Ten drakes it's money," I said to the amused Galeth.

"Why should I waste money on a sure bet?" he replied, starting to walk arounf the cluster of trees and bushes on the hill, but I cut through it and beat him to the door of Arreil's trade house. Sticking out my tongue, I preseded him into the building, climbing the stairs in search of tall-boy—er, Hrisskar.

"Ah, if it isn't the lass from earlier!" the Nord roared, a drunken smile on his face. "And what did ye come here for?" Hrisskar slurred out.

"…he's drunk," Srath observed.

"Yes, so he is," I snapped out, irritated. _He's so drunk I bet I could take his money from right in front of him and he wouldn't notice._ Speaking to the drunk Nord, I snarled before turning and stalking off. "Never mind."

I was outside before I lost my control on my temper. "Stupid, bloody, _tall_ son of a bitch!" Srath took a step back, and I whirled to glare at him. "What?!"

"You… are frightening when you're mad."

"Oh, bug off." I stalked to the side of the platform, and jumped down five feet to land crouched on the soft ground. I cut across the water, wet feet be damned, and continued towards the south path out of Seyda Neen, stuffing the pouch of money into my pocket as I went.

Srath caught up with me as I passed the siltstrider platform, and silently fell into pace with me, not remarking on anything.

We walked for a while before I noticed a tree with shelf fungus growing from it, and I walked over, breaking all of it I could reach, and wrapping it up in soft cloths I found in my bag.

"Are you feeling better?" Srath finally asked, and I shrugged in response.

"I suppose," I replied, not feeling very sociable.

And so we continued silently, me contemplating the ground and picking mushrooms whenever we came across them, and Srath with his long sword out and ready.

I had just broken the stem of a violet coprinus when I heard a sudden, furious screaming. Startled, I stood and turned to face Srath, who was looking at a kwama forager dubiously. It was the source of the noise, and then suddenly it rushed forward, and Srath, startled, got hit in the ankle. The forager hit him with considerable force for its size, and the Galeth fell to the ground.

I dropped the fungus and shrugged my bow off my shoulder, reaching back for one of my few arrows as I did so. Biting my lip, I hoped that Lilindra had more practice shooting bows then I did. Sure enough, as I placed the end to the string, something seemed to take over my movement to draw it smoothly back and sight along the arrow. Waiting until the kwama forager was far enough away from Srath that I didn't need to worry about hitting him (unless, of course, it went totally off target) then released.

The arrow hit the kwama forager in its side, and it squealed louder then it had before. It turned to face me, and started charging, but as it passed Srath, the flat side of his sword blade came down on its neck. The forager slumped with an audible snap.

"Well," I said, lowering the bow and trying to calm my suddenly racing heart. "That was fun."

"Indeed," Srath replied, looking as disturbed as I felt, "it was."

I bent down to pick up the violet coprinus, only to find that it had been stepped on, and was now dusty. With a sigh, I straightened and frowned. "Well, let's get going…" Srath was kneeling beside the body of the kwama forager, and he suddenly pulled out a small knife and began to skin the thing. "What are you doing?" I asked, confused.

He looked up at me like I was being particularly dense. "I am skinning it."

"I can see _that_. Why?"

He shrugged. "We could sell it in Balmora."

"And if they don't buy untreated hides?"

Srath shrugged again. "Find out how to tan it, and then make a belt pouch, I suppose. Why are you being so bitchy?"

"I…" I stopped to think. "Sorry. I'm starting to get another head ache."

For the third time, he shrugged, and I screamed at him mentally to stop shrugging. "It's okay. At least you have a reason for it. Unlike most of the girls I go to school with."

Curious, I decided to pry. "Where do you go to school?"

He looke dup and fixed me with a sardonic stare. "And why do you want to know?"

"…making small talk?" I tried.

Srath laughed. "Nice try."

"Okay, okay." Turning, I looked at the tree beside me, which had several types of shelf fungus growing on it.

Pulling one off the tree, I broke a corner of it off and smelled it curiously. Shrugging at its sharp, minty smell, I popped it into my mouth and chewed for a while before swallowing it. Suddenly, I looked down at the rough surface of the large fungus and inhaled, smelling the minty scent again, and swallowed convulsively, a bitter after taste in my mouth.

"…Srath?" I asked tentatively, biting my lip. He looked up from the corpse of the kwama forager, a bit annoyed. "Are you almost finished?"

"Yes," he grunted, looking back down at the bloody mess in his hands.

"Good, because as soon as you are, we need to head to Peligiad as fast as we can." At his startled look, I smiled apologetically, starting to feel somewhat nauseous. "I just ate a piece of bungler's bane."

"Oh, for god's sake…" he stood quickly, dropping the half skinned corpse at his feet and moving to my side. I held up a hand, warning him to stay away, before bending over and vomiting.

After that, it became rather vague. The world took turns burning and freezing, and I threw up more times then I want to remember. My head spun and ached at the same time, and for a few moments there I was sure I could taste the sunlight, and hear the color of Srath's hair.

Needless to say, I was delirious.

After a while it all went black, and I woke up in a bed under an unfamiliar ceiling. With a groan, I rolled over in bed, only to land with an undignified thump on the floor after the mattress ran out.

I lay there for a few minutes, blinking at the ceiling in confusion, and then pushed myself to my feet, looking around as I did so. There were a few chests and a chair, but I ignored them in favor of the door. As I approached it, it swung open, and I felt like I had been hit by a two by four in the head when I recognized Nels Llendo.

"Get back in bed," he scolded – s_colded? – _as he gestured at me. Surprised, I allowed him to push me back into the bed, but then my head started spinning.

"Where am I?" I asked when my head stopped the infernal spinning.

"Peligiad," he replied easily. "It's the night after you ignored the information that you _begged_ I tell you about the mushrooms, and your friend is asleep next door."

I paused to think about that, then shrugged. "I think I'm going to puke," I said, my voice sounding odd. "And if I puke, I'm going to puke on you."

Nels pulled back, startled, then walked to the opposite side of the room and grabbed a basin. "If you're going to vomit, I would prefer you did it in here," he said dryly, placing it on my lap. "It would take a lot more work then I would prefer to wash the smell of vomit out of fabric."

I glared at him as he walked to the chair and lowered himself with a sigh into it. With out opening his eyes, he spoke.

"Stop glaring at me and go back to sleep, would you? You've still got poison in your body."

"Why don't you go back to your own room?" I asked, trying to keep from puking until he was back in range.

Nels Llendo opened one eyes and looked at me flatly. "This _is_ my room."

"Oh." I couldn't think of anything to say beyond that, so I lifted the surprisingly heavy basin and set it on the floor before rolling onto my side with my back facing the Dunmer outlaw. Suddenly, I was drowsier then I had thought I was, and I fell into a dreamless sleep.

Someone was shaking me awake, and I was less than ecstatic about that.

"If you don't remove that hand," I began in a reasonable tone, "I'll remove it for you. At the elbow." Who ever had been touching me retreated at a very fast pace. "That's better."

"Um, F— er, Lilindra, I have your breakfast," Srath said nervously. I sat up quickly, mouth watering.

_Food!_

He handed me the tray and I tore into the food at a rate that would have done Lina Inverse proud. Soon I was toying with the empty plate, and looked up to face Srath, who was looking at me with a disbelieving and slightly nauseous expression on his face. "What?"

"No… nothing," he said, shaking his head, but I could tell that he was trying not to laugh. "Nels Llendo has been very helpful," he started, licking his lips at the mention of the Dunmer.

I nodded thoughtfully, too tired to mind the change of subject. "How did you run into him, by the way?" I asked, curious.

"Oh," he said, with a slight laugh. "I was walking down the path, carrying you – and by the way, you're lighter then I expected. He stepped out, ready to demand money, but stopped when he recognized you. Next thing I knew, he was rushing us towards Peligiad." There was something in his face that made me think he admired the outlaw, and more.

It almost made me feel sick.

I frowned. It wasn't the thought of Srath and Nels Llendo together that made me feel sick. Sitting upright quickly, I looked around for the basin. "Where'd it go?" I asked, frantic, speaking through the fingers of the hand against my mouth.

"Where'd what go?" Srath asked, puzzled.

"The basin!" I cried, feeling more nauseous by the second. Srath jumped, then rushed forward, reaching under the bed. He had just pulled it out when, unable to hold it back any longer, I snatched it out of his hands, puking into it. Srath jumped back as it splattered slightly, but, having emptied my stomach of my breakfast, I leaned back, moaning.

The door opened, and Nels Llendo walked in, blinking when he saw Srath with the full basin. He stepped out of the way, allowing the Galeth to leave the room, then stepped towards the bed.

"Still not feeling well, milady?" he asked mildly, and I glared up at him tiredly.

"I think I could manage to work up a bit more, if you truly feel like being puked on." I threatened, my voice hoarse and tired. He laughed, startled, then stopped to look thoughtfully at me when he realized that I was serious. Finally he nodded, and took a seat in the chair again.

"The bruise on your forehead is healing," he offered, and I kept glaring at him for a few minutes before grudgingly nodding at him. I closed my eyes and forced my muscles to relax, but Nels speaking up again startled me. "How did you and that boy meet up?" His tone of voice carefully expressionless.

Cracking one eye open to peer at him, I shrugged. "We have several things in common," I said.

"Like being released from prison?" I laughed and nodded at his guess, closing my eyes again.

"That, and the gender we're attracted to," I said bluntly, opening my eyes to look at him. The blush on the Dunmer's face was quite the sight.

"You mean you're—" he started in a choked voice, but he stopped when I frowned.

"No, I mean _he_ is."

"Oh. Well. That would… ah, explain some things…" he mumbled, his face still flushed. Srath walked in the door at that moment, carrying a clean basin, and looked between us with suspicion on his face. I tried to wipe the self satisfied grin and slight annoyance off my face, but he still looked at me, no doubt wondering what the hell I was planning. Or had done.

For his part, Nels had averted his eyes from Srath, looking intently at the wall. I peered to see what he found so interesting, but the angle was wrong and I couldn't see what he was looking at. With a disappointed sigh, I slumped back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

Srath looked between him and me again, and finally just set the basin on the floor. "I don't know what's going on, and I'm not sure I want to know. I'll be at the bar."

_Bar? ALCY-HAL!_ My expression brightened and I looked pleadingly up at Srath. "Could you—"

"No," Srath and Nels said at the same time.

"But—"

"No," the Dunmer said firmly, looking at me sternly. "You're still weak from eating bungler's bane."

"_But—_" At the glares I got from both of the males in the room, I subsided, waiting until Srath had turned to exit the room before sticking my tongue out. Nels Llendo stared disbelieving, and shook his head when I asked what he was staring at.

"Nothing," he replied, and didn't say any more, even when I started throwing torn off and crumpled bits of paper at him. Dropping back onto the pillows with a flump and an annoyed 'hmph!', I stared at the ceiling in annoyance. The scowl on my face grew deeper when I heard Nels laughing.

"What's so funny?" I snarled.

"You," he said, and from the sound of his voice, he was holding back more laughter through will alone, "are ridiculous."

I snorted and rolled onto my side, facing the plaster covered wall. The color, I decided after fifteen minutes of acute examination, was more of a yellow color then cream.

By then, Nels Llendo had stewed in guilt long enough to stamp down his pride enough to mutter out an apology, then beat a hasty retreat, no doubt to the bar, where he would drink the alcohol _I_ wanted, and—

_Hmm. Perhaps I could sneak downstairs._

With a laugh best described as insane, I kicked the blankets off my legs and stood shakily, putting one hand on the wall to steady myself. I took that chance to examine the clothing I wore, as it wasn't the clothing that I had been wearing when I woke on the prison ship.

Instead, it was a dark robe, made of almost black fabric, with dark blue sleeves. With one eyebrow raised, I realized that I could feel the somewhat-soft fabric of the robe against my skin. My thoughts bordered murderous as I though about which of the two who had been taking care of me could have undressed me.

With eyes full of righteous fury (and an Amelia pose), I strode to the door.

Which was locked.

My righteous fury deflated like a balloon poked with a pin, and I slumped against the door, sliding slowly to the floor. With a defeated sigh, I picked myself up and walked back to the bed, slipping back under the covers. My eyes drooped (hey, holding a righteous fury is hard work!), and I considered the benefits of taking a nap.

My body, however, took initiative, and refused to listen to my mind's protests as I slipped into sleep.

"I," the whine could have only come from my throat, "am spending _far_ too much time asleep." I was, of course, complaining to a disinterested Stath. He stood, leaning against the wall, staring at the wall. When he had taken up the position, I tried to find out what his attention on, but he must have X-Ray vision or something, because I couldn't see anything worthy of that intent a stare.

"I'm going to tie you up and leave you for horny Daedra," I threatened him, as Nels Llendo entered the room. "What are you looking at?" I snapped, my temper much the worse for wear.

"Nothing," he replied casually.

"When can I leave?" I asked, putting the slightest edge of a whine into my voice. Nels merely raised an eyebrow, immune to it. Damn the man.

"Tomorrow," Srath said, looking irritated. I surely had more reason to be irritated then he did, so I ignored it.

"Why not now?" I made sure to elongate the o, dragging the single syllable into several.

With a feeling of success, I watched as Nels flinched. The Dunmer wasn't as immune as I had thought he was!

He glanced over at Srath with a raised eyebrow, who shrugged and gestured. "Perhaps we could see about taking you down to the bar, if you don't order anything to drink. If you do, you'll have to pay for it, but we'll donate it to the local drunkard."

"But—" I protested, but Srath cut me off without even a look of guilt on his face.

"One of us is going to be with you at all times, you realize," he said smoothly, not showing any sign that he had interrupted me in his voice.

"But—" This time it was Nels Llendo's turn to interrupt me.

"I wouldn't even consider it, but there's a bard downstairs, and Srath mentioned that you like music." I looked between the two, but there was no sign of weakness, so I slumped and agreed to their terms, before throwing the blankets off of my legs. Suddenly, Nels bent forward and lifted me effortlessly, carrying me out the door that Srath opened for him. Surprised, I kept silent, but when I opened my mouth to start protesting, and loudly, the Dunmer hissed at me. "Do you want to draw attention to your position?"

I snapped my mouth shut when I realized he was right, but sent him a dirty glare regardless. Luckily, when we came downstairs, everyone in the bar was listening to the bard, watching the man with various degrees of interest. The only one who witnessed us coming down the stairs was the brown-haird Breton woman behind the bar, who smiled broadly at the sight.

Nels set me down carefully on a chair at a table near the stairs, and as he took a seat, I glared at him and growled that I could have walked downstairs myself.

He gave me a look that said he clearly disbelieved that, but before he could speak the bartender came over, a large smile on her face.

"So you're the one that dear Nels brought in!" she said, smiling brightly. "It's so good to see you up, people who are poisoned with bungler's bane don't always survive."

I tried to ignore the Dunmer's eyes as they bored into me, almost proclaiming 'I told you so!' at the Breton's words. "I—thank you," I said, both to the woman and the man who sat across the table, feeling as if the words were not quite worth the aid they had given me.

Srath walked up and took the third chair at the table, sitting to my left, and against the wall. He smiled up at the woman and asked for two mugs of cider. Nels also spoke up, asking for cider. The owoman smiled and nodded, walking abck to the bark where she poured out the three measures of cider. After leaving them on our table, she didn't seem very inclined to stay and speak more, and returned to her position behind the wooden bar.

Turning my attention to the music, I took a sip of the cider, looking down at the mug in surprise at its taste. It tasted like apples and oranges mixed together, with just the barest hint of cinnamon. Savoring the flavor, I started listening to the intricate intertwining melody of the song the bard was playing. I was humming along with it before I recognized the music.

_Wiccan Dance,_ I thought, stiffening in my seat. Nels had picked up his mug of cider and gone to the bar, so Srath was the only one to notice my surprise.

"So, you know it, too," he said, his voice low.

"Loreena McKennitt," I replied, just as quietly. At his nod, I continued. "Any other songs you recognized?"

"The Bonny Swans," he replied, and I mentally cheered. "But those are the only two songs of hers that I really know," Srath said with a shrug.

"Me too," I replied, then bit my lip. "Is this the only reason that you brought me down here? Just to see if I recognized the music being played?"

"Of course not," he replied, a bit scornfully. "I knew you liked music, so I thought it might make you more willing to accept another day of bed rest."

I couldn't fault his logic, so I finally just stuck my tongue out at him and left it at that.

Nels Llendo returned, raising his eyebrow at my immaturity, but he didn't comment on it. I had to admit, having an outlaw, in a profession where questions could get you killed, the relief from being asked questions all the time was immeasurable. Of course, in return he was too observant.

"Why were you arguing about the music?" he asked without beating around the bush, and I looked at Srath before laughing.

"Oh, Srath was wondering if I recognized the music. I was wondering if that was the only reason I was down here." I shrugged and then put my head down on my crossed arms. My temple rested against one wrist, and I absently rubbed my chin against the smooth wood of the table. Enough hands had passed over its surface that the wood had been worn smooth. Briefly I wondered how the process worked, but I put the thought out of my mind as I listened more to the music.

The strains of song slowly faded away, and I sighed regretfully, knowing the bard was probably going to take a break, and then turned my attention when Srath spoke.

"Are you going to drink that cider, Lilindra?" he asked, not stumbling on my character's name. Without opening my eyes, I reached forward and snagged my half-full mug from the Galeth character's loose grip, and took a drink. Afterwards, I opened my eyes and deliberately spat into the mug.

"Still want it?" I offered, holding it out to him.

"Ah, no thank…" he replied, squeamishly. I laughed as he made his way to the bar to get himself more cider. I looked up, startled, when someone else's laugh joined mine. The bard sat in the seat to my left, smiling freely.

"I saw what you did from across the room," he said, still chuckling a bit. "That was well handled." I smiled hesitantly, then looked at Nels in hope of support. The Dunmer smiled and retreated, leaving me alone at the table with the wood elf bard.

His black hair was in a ponytail, with small braids trailing its length, feathers dangling down his back. Lines of blue paint crossed his face in no pattern I could see, but he gave my forehead a second, harder look after he glanced over it the first time.

"I've never seen that design before…" he muttered, looking at it intently.

I, of course, demonstrated my excellent grasp of the situation.

"Huh?"


	5. The Horde of Kwama Foragers! Oh no!

**Morrowind Live **

By Faronon Star Wolf

_**A/N:** Not much to say. Well, yes, there is something to say. Night, thanks for letting me use you in my story! XD_

"Your clan tattoo," he replied, looking at me strangely. I thought for a second, and then touched my forehead, flushing.

"Oh yeah." At his inquiring look, I shrugged and continued. "A book hit me on the forehead a few days ago, so that might be part of it. Other then that, I don't remember much of my past."

"Oh?" he drawled, looking intently at me. I shrugged and decided to continue for the hell of it.

"I was released from the Imperial Prisons a while ago, but I don't remember much of my past… and I don't know why."

He nodded, but his eyes were narrowed suspiciously. I opened my mouth to add excuses, but he shook his head and changed the subject.

"I take it you enjoy music?" Startled, I stared at him for a few seconds before nodding, still slightly confused. "Have you considered becoming a bard? Your voice sounds like it would carry well…"

_Better then my real voice would,_ I thought, not without a trace of bitterness. "Um, no, I haven't…"

"Well, think about," he said, then glanced over the room and stood. "Looks like they're starting to get restless… The next song is for you," he said with a wink as he turned away.

_What. The. Crap?_ I placed my head against the table and resisted the urge to bang my head against it. After all, the only thing that would come out of it would be pain, and possible brain damage. _Having brain damage would be better then being a friggin' Mary Sue, _I thought cynically, moaning softly. _Why me?_

The first notes of the song passed over me, and, hearing a chair being pulled out, I turned to glare at Srath. He froze in the process of sitting down, and had a look on his face like a deer in the headlights.

"Okay, what's the problem?" he asked, sitting down.

"Nothing," I replied grumpily, crossing my arms on the table and putting my head back down. "Between having been poisoned, and the fact I seem to be a Mary Sue, everything's just _peachy._ Excuse me while I go slit my wrists."

"…I see. Is that why the bard is playing a love song?" At his words, I moaned again and tried to shrink out of view. "Why are you calling yourself a Mary Sue, though?"

I sat up and began to count out the points on my fingers. "Let's see. Better singing voice. Beautiful. Able to fight well – not sure if I can beat someone who's been training for most of their life, though. Long, luxurious locks of hair. I don't need glasses any more— and, the most telling part – all the guys, except for you, seem to be falling over me."

Srath nodded, but didn't comment on what I had said. "Would you like to go back to the room?" he asked, looking sympathetic.

"Can I walk myself up?" I wasn't hoping too much for that, but to my surprise, he hesitated, then nodded.

"Go ahead and get yourself settled in. I'll wait for Nels," the Galeth replied.

Looking sideways at him, I raised an eyebrow and spoke. "Why? Gonna try seducing him?"

The sudden red flush on his face was my only answer, but I laughed and pushed myself to my feet. "Well, I hope you succeed."

The dim lighting of the bar was in my favor, as was the fact that everyone was listening to the bard – and even the bard wasn't looking, instead watching his fingers as he strummed the music.

Walking with one hand loosely brushing the wall, I was glad that the stairs were so well-built, as they didn't squeak at all. The room was unlocked, so I slipped in and, after a brief hesitation, locked it after me. Either Nels Llendo or Srath would have the key, so it wouldn't be that big of a problem.

Stifling a yawn, I flopped on the bed, feeling muscles I hadn't realized were tense begin to relax. Pulling the blankets over myself, I drifted off to sleep.

A hand on my shoulder shaking me dragged me from a dream including me, a bastard that I had gone to school with, a chainsaw, and blood. I reluctantly woke, throwing one arm out to the side as I turned toward the person shaking me.

_Oops,_ I thought drowsily, feeling my elbow hit somebody. Opening unfocused eyes, I stared blearily up at the pained face of Nels Llendo.

"…oops," I said.

"Oops, she says," he muttered as he clutched his stomach. "Not only do you sneak upstairs, but you attack me," the Dunmer said accusingly, glaring down at me.

I shrugged, tired. "I'm sorry. Can I go back to sleep now?"

The anger on his face faded into annoyance, then cleared into a calm look. If he was really calm, I didn't know, but he didn't look like a descending storm cloud.

"Very well," he replied grudgingly. "We'll talk in the morning."

I rolled back onto my side and closed my eyes as he finished talking, ignoring his exasperated sigh, or his footsteps as he walked toward the chair on the other side of the room. As I drifted back to sleep, I wondered what was going on in the real world.

A shrill bleeping woke me up, and, surprised, I sat up straight. Cloth came in contact with my head, and I reached up, feeling a canopy of sorts above my head.

Reality exerted itself, and I realized that the loud sound was my alarm clock. I pushed at the cloth around me, which I now realized were sheets, and came face to face with the wall. I grumbled and turned the other way, pushing my feet out from under the curtain made of a sheet and stood, blinking owlishly at the slight glare from the hall light. I squinted at the red numbers of my alarm clock, then walked slowly over to turn it off. To some, five in the morning was a hellish hour, but it's normal for me.

I sat down in the computer chair and turned on the monitor, squinting slightly as my eyes adjusted to the bright light. Almost idly, I glanced at the date, and froze.

"Fe-February?" I squeaked, my eyes wide. "But—it isn't—"

Swallowing harshly, I opened up a window of Internet Explorer and went to my Live Journal, where daily entries reassured me. Reading back over the past few months, I relaxed slightly as I learned about what had gone on over the past few months—the words seemed to release memories, though they seemed to be a memory of a dream rather then what I had lived through.

Finishing close to an hour later, I started up Semagic and thought about how to describe it.

_"Well, that was odd. _

_What, you ask? Well, I had a dream that seemed more real then the past few months…"_

It was nearly seven before I finished up the post, and I hesitated for a few seconds before adding one more sentence.

_"All I can say is I can't believe I named my 'character' _Lilindra_!" _

Having learned from my journal that I had been ill for a few days, and my parents had dragged my brother to the beach with the dogs, I closed the program after posting and went downstairs to find something to eat. Half an hour later, I went back upstairs with the intentions of laying on my bed, but the fact I had new e-mail distracted me.

It was a notice from Live Journal, alerting me that a person with the username forestsrath had commented in my journal.

Idly, I clicked on it and read the fairly simple comment.

_"Do you have many dreams about Morrowind?"_

Surprised, I blinked, then clicked on the Live Journal icon to the side of the username and went to the info page.

What was listed as the name surprised me.

_Srath Lorden._

A frantic e-mail later, I had confirmation that this was, indeed the Srath from my "dream". We chatted briefly before we both came to the conclusion that we needed to read the file that came with the mod – but the problem was that the zip file had disappeared from both of our computers, and it wasn't listed on the mod site we had downloaded it from. I bit my lip, then replied to the most recent e-mail.

_"I'm going to start up Morrowind._" With that, I sent it, and located the Morrowind CD. Several e-mails from Srath had arrived by the time I had found it, but I ignored them to start up the game.

To my surprise, it didn't crash, and I loaded the Lilindra save file. Again, it didn't crash. Almost expecting it to crash any second, I pressed the tilde key to open the console. Hesitating only briefly, I typed in the most important code: tgm.

_God mode -> On._ With a relieved sigh, I began to alter my stats – but, surprise of surprises, the program crashed. With a curse, I leaned back in my chair and looked at the screen pensively.

I turned the monitor off and went back to bed. Falling asleep was surprisingly easy—

—and when I next opened my eyes, it was night in the Halfway Tavern in Pelagiad.

Holding my breath, I glanced over at the chair that Nels Llendo had been sleeping in the past few days, only to find it was empty.

With a shrug, I turned back onto my side and tried to get back to sleep.

A while later, the creak of the door opening fractured the blankness I had induced in my mind.

"Nels, darling—" The whisper was a woman's voice. I barely held back a snort at the ridiculously seductive tone of her voice.

"Tomorrow, dearest. My patient will be gone then…" Nels Llendo's sentence trailed off, and I could hear them kiss before one retreated, and the other stepped into the room. The door was shut quietly, and the chair groaned as Nels sat down. Pulling the blanket further up, I settled back into sleep.

When morning came, we traveled north along the shore of the lake. As we went, there was a suspicious lack of beasts, but when we reached the north-most side of the lake traveled east until we came to a path that lead into one of the foyadas. Nels escorted us until we were close to Fort Moonmoth, then, with a jaunty smile, left. Srath, who had been silent for most of the walk, sighed as he watched the Dunmer walk away.

"Well, that was a hopeless obsession…" he murmured, then turned back towards the path. "Let's go! I'd like to introduce you to the others. I think you'll probably like Tari…"

Like the howling of a banshee, a screech rose from the bushes beside Srath, and, in its full glory, a… kwama forager burst from the leafy bush. I couldn't help staring is disbelief.

"I hate these things!" Srath shouted, his voice cracking. Pulling his sword from the sheath at his side, he went hacking madly at it.

The cries of pain from the kwama forager attracted more, and soon we were knee-deep in ankle-biters.

"Srath, you _idiot!_" I cried from my perch on a tree trunk. The foragers had surrounded me, and, like a horde of Chihuahuas, they were jumping up at me, but couldn't jump high enough to hit me.

Measuring the distance, I looked at how far I was from Srath. Taking a deep breath, I jumped, landing heavily and slipping slightly as a kwama forager twisted out from under my foot.I grabbed Srath's wrist, pulling him along after me. The foragers reacted rather quickly, and soon they were chasing after us madly, squealing.

"Let me go! I want to kill them!"

"Shut up and keep running!" I retorted, dragging Srath along the path toward Fort Moonmoth.

A shout rose from the wall, and soon there was a volley of arrows raining down on the beasts following us. I staggered to a stop, and released Srath's wrist to fumble for my bow and an arrow, but almost all ofthe weak creatures were dead, and the ones remaining alive were fleeing.

Falling to the ground heavily, I sat and just breathed. A young soldier ran out to us, a look of worry on his face.

"Are you two all right? We weren't aware there were so many foragers in the area…" The imperial trailed off, a embarrassed look on his face.

I opened my mouth to reply, but Srath spoke up smoothly. "Thank you, but we're fine." I looked over at him in time to see him sheath his sword. "Are you ready to go, Lilindra?" Shooting him a glare from under my bangs, I nodded and stood.

"Do you need to be escorted to Balmora?" the guard asked anxiously, wringing his hands.

_People actually_ do _that?_ I thought in astonishment, then answered. "No, thank you." It was my turn to get a dirty look from Srath, and his turn to be ignored. "Thank you for assisting us," I said, brushing the robe I wore off.

The guard bowed in response, then turned and started walking back to the fort. Srath turned to me, annoyed, but I stopped him before he said anything.

"If you want to play damsel in distress to get his attention, you can do it on your own time. I'm tired and I want to sleep for a few years."

He looked at the ground contemplatively, then nodded. "You're right. Let's go."

The walk after that was uneventful, and we walked along the bridge, eventually entering the walls of Balmora through the arches of the path.

_It's about time,_ I thought, looking around myself. "So, where are the people staying?"

"Most, I think, said they were going to be staying at the Southwall Corner Club," Srath replied, walking along the edge of the river. I followed, walking through the familiar streets of Balmora to the bar that held the Balmora Thieves Guild.

Opening the door, the Galeth gestured me inside, and I walked into a poorly lit hallway. A female Breton turned to face me, and then turned away. Srath took the lead again, heading down into the bar.

I looked over the room with tired eyes, noticing a female Nord sitting at the bar. Srath had gestured me to one of the tables, so I walked over to it and dropped into the chair, slumping on the surface.

"Ugh," I announced, watching Srath walk over to stand next to the Nord at the bar.

"Hey, Tari, guess what finally happened?" I heard him say, and I could see a slight grin on his face.

The Nord set the mug down and looked at Srath with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile. "I dunno, Srath, what?"

I shugged, closed my eyes again and pillowed my head against my arms.

"Well, the final prisoner's been released- she's the one at the table over there. Want to come meet her?"

"Doesn't look like much, but all right."

I could hear Srath walk over, and the annoyance was obviousin his voice. "Oi. Wake up."

"'m not asleep," I mumbled, opening my eyes to glare at him. Standing a few steps behind him was the Nord woman, and I could see now that there was a black tattoo of a stylized bird on her forehead. I nodded at her, waiting for her to introduce herself.

The Nord crossed her arms and looked down at me, leaning her weight on her right leg. "Well?" she asked, looking over at Srath and then back to me.

Srath sighed, rolling his eyes. "Stubborn girls," he muttered, then raised his voice. "Faronon, this is Nateoatari. Tari, this is Faronon."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Um, Srath?" When he nodded, I continued. "We already know each other. 'lo, Night."

Tari—_Nateoatari_—Night— burst out laughing. "Farfar! HA! I should have expected you'd be one." She reached down and hugged me tightly before sitting in the chair next to me.

"Ah-right. I suppose I should have expected this," Srath said, blinking rather stupidly. He shrugged, then sat across the table from Night and me.

I smiled at the Galeth and replied. "Why should you have?" At his shrug, I turned to Night and began to speak. "Night, I thought you didn't download mods..."

Tari shrugged sheepishly. "I don't, and I sure don't use cheat codes like some people," here she glared at Srath, then back to me, and shrugged. "Except...well, it sounded so cool..." she trailed off.

"Hey, don't look at me," Srath protested. "I don't use codes either."

I moaned and dropped my head back onto my arms. "So I use codes, so sue me..."

Tari smirked. "It's America, maybe I will!" Her hand reached out to the table, and, as she realized her mug wasn't there, spoke again. "Damn, there went my ale..."

"No, technically it's Vvardenfell. And I think the punishment here runs more towards capital punishment," Srath interjected, then shrugged. "But that's neither here nor there. Shall I get us all a round?"

"Cider, please," I mumbled into my arms, before lifting my head and propping it up with one hand. "Gah, so tired. And here I thought I would never miss coffee..."

The Nord laughed. "Capital punishment for codes! I love this place." She looked over at me in disgust. "Coffee, guh. Honestly, Farfar. I'll definitely load up on the ale. It tastes like shit, but I feel like a real pioneer! Or something."

Srath left with a laugh, heading over to the bar.

"Underage drinking, tsk tsk!" I said, sitting up straight with a smile. That is, until a thought occured to me. "Damn it, I think Srath still has my money!"

"Hey, I'm in Morrowind now, it doesn't make a difference. Except hangovers are terrible." Tari shrugged, then laughed. "Ha, I guess we know what Srath is paying with."

I faked a few sobs before shrugging. "Oh well." A thought occurred to me. "Oh, wow,I haven't even checked to see if god mode was-erm..."

Tari raised a suspicious eyebrow. "God moding, Farfar?" She threw her hand up on her brow and leaned back as if about to faint. "I'm ashamed to call you my friend."

"What did I miss?" Srath asked, coming back with two mugs of ale and a mug of cider.

"We were talking about ways to kill you off," I replied promptly, pulling the dagger from the sheath strapped between my shoulder blades, and began to play with the blade with an insane smile on my face.

Tari leapt at the mug of ale, ignoring my insane blade flipping. She took a huge swig from the tankard, swallowed, wiped her mouth, and breathed out in a rush. "Gods, I miss Pepsi."

Srath took a sip of his ale and grimaced. "Ugh. I miss V8. And, Faronon, put that away."

I pouted, twisting my hair over to one shoulder and putting the dagger back, then fluffing the hair back over my back. "...V8 tastes like blood. Are you a vampire?"

Tari shook her head. "V8 tastes like crap, not blood." She shuddered and took another swing of ale. "Pepsiiiiii..." she whined, and started humming the Pepsi theme song.

"You two have no class," he said stiffly, then turned to face me. "I've been meaning to ask you, why do you keep your dagger there?"

I shrugged, and gestured vaguely, reaching out with one hand to snag the mug of cider. "If you are robbing someone, and you have them drop all their weapons, what would you tell them to do with their hands?"

Tari laughed and applauded loudly. "Faronon, you have amazingly leet skills. I'd never have thought of that."

Srath nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful. "Very wise." He took another sip, then looked down at the mug he held in surprise. "Amazing, it's beginning to taste better..."

I smiled and bowed over the table. One eyebrow rose at Srath's statement, and I began laughing. "Yeah, once you kill off all your tastebuds."

Tari picked up her mug and raised it in a mock cheer. "Here here!" she swigged again. "I'll be an addict by the time we get out of here, just watch..." The Nord pulled a face.

Srath glanced up as a bard began to play, then turned back to me. "Hey, isn't that..."

"Oh, dear gods..." I muttered. "Why did that damn bard follow us?" I turned to glare at the male Wood Elf bard, who bowed, and turned the song into the love song he had been playing the night before. I rested my forehead on my arms again. "Pardon me while I go commit suicide."

Tari raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to know, or should I just go kill him?" She fingered the hilt of the Spark Sword on her hip eagerly.

"As much as I think Faronon would appreciate it, I don't think it would be very productive for you... the prison time you'd have to do would put the meeting back. By the way, where is everyone? I thought we were going to meet here..."

"Meeting?" I asked stupidly, raising my head from my contemplation of the table. "What meeting?"

Tari, pouting, stopped toying with the hilt of her sword and looked back at me. "Honestly, how long have you been here?"

"Be nice, Tari. She's still recovering from eating Bunger's Bane." Looking back at me, he continued. "The meeting is with Casius Cosades, by the way. I'm sure you can figure it out from there."

"...oh. Yeah. But why not just meet us one at a time?"

"Bunger's Bane? How the hell?" Tari asked, startled.

I rubbed one eye, refusing to answer immediately. "I was being stupid, as usual," I finally replied.

Tari raised an eyebrow. "And...?" she said, after a pause.

"And we ran into Nels Llendo, and he helped me nurse her back to health. Where are the others, Tari?" Srath asked again, impatiently.

Tari turned to Srath and stuck her tongue out at him. "Patience, he-who-drinks-icky-V8. They should be here."

Srath rolled his eyes. "Did Ceras, at least, say where she was going?"

Tari thought a moment, then grinned and shook her head. "Nope!"

Srath stood and sighed. "If you two will excuse me, I'm going to go see if I can find any of the others."

"Bye!" I said, waving as the Galeth turned and walked for the stairs.

Tari waved cheekily. The ale was starting to effect her.

"That really wasn't nice, Tari," a female voice said, coming from a dark corner of the room. The speaker stood, coming into the light, showing herself to be a Breton with red-gold hair pulled partially up into a bun, and a calm look on her tattooed face. She walked over to the table, and took Srath's abandoned seat. "I'm fairly sure you knew I was here the whole time."

"Ah, hello," I said, blinking at the newcomer.

Tari grinned at the new comer. "Howdy, Ceras. Did I know? I can't remember."

Ceras sighed and shook her head. "You're drunk, Tari."

Tari grinned and said in a sing-song voice. "Drunk as a duck in a pond with a squeaky toy..."

"Right," I said. "I think it's time you went to bed, Night," reaching out for the almost empty mug of ale, I stood.

Ceras nodded. "I believe you're right... what was your name again?"

Tari slurred, "She's Farfar the Great. Eat more heroes, a great source of moral fiber!" she stood up slowly and swayed. "I need a herooooo...When I'm not strong, I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry oooooooooon..." she sang

I set the mug I held aside, and took one of the Nord's elbows, walking her towards the stairs. I ignored the twang of lute strings as the bard noticed he was being walked out on again during the love song, and glanced back to see Ceras following me. "D'you know which room is hers?"

"Indeed," she replied, and stepped forward to help me steady the swaying Nord.

Tari giggled and sang louder. "I'm 'enry the 8th I am, I am. I got married to the widow next door, she's been married seven times befoooooore..."

"Yes, Night, I'm aware of that," I muttered, then said louder. "This is pathetic. I'm older then you are, but you are taller then me!"

"And everybody was a 'Enry! 'ENRY! Never a Willy no' a Sam! NO SAM!"

Ceras smiled, and simply stepped forward to unlock a room. Swinging open the door, she led us into the room, and gestured towards one of the two beds. "That's the one she's been using," she said.

"Sleep over!" squealed Tari.

"Oh, joy..."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Notes:** Well. I'm sorry to say that in the time since I started it, Morrowind Live has lost all interest to me. There will be no more chapters, and it will never be finished._

_So, in apology, I'll post the various incarnations of what would have happened, had I continued._

* * *

"Blah," I announced, flopping onto my bed – finally, a bed after a week of sleeping on the floor! 

After I had helped Ceras take Night to the room they where renting, I went in search of the man who rented out rooms – only to find that the "real" people had rented all three of them. Damn them.

So, I headed back to the room that Night was happily snoring away in. Ceras offered me the floor, and as Srath _still_ had my money, I had to accept. There was no way in hell I was going to try to find somewhere to stay that late at night.

After a night spent tossing and turning (_never_ attempt to sleep on a floor when the closest you've come to sleeping on such a surface, even camping, is a tent trailer), I got woken by Night squealing, and then groaning and moaning about her hangover.

Having never gotten a chance to _get_ a handover, I had little sympathy.

Anyway, the next few days had a schedule – Night went out adventuring after her hangover wore off (I sometimes tagged along), Ceras spent time at the Mage's Guild (where I got bored the first time I went), and Srath went to flirt with the guard over at Fort Moonmoth.

On the fifth day, I was wandering down one of the streets on the opposite side of the river from the Corner Club, where I noticed a small building squashed between the Mage's and Fighter's Guilds. _Huh, that's not in the game…_ I thought as I wandered over to it.

The knob turned smoothly in my hand, and I walked into heaven.

"_Books!"_ I squealed joyfully, a large grin growing on my face.

"Ah, welcome, miss," came a quivery old voice from around one of the bookcases. I followed it to find an old Breton kneeling by the bottom shelf of a bookcase. "If you're not too busy, could you help me?" he said, shoving a pile of books into my hands.

"Sure," I replied, turning them so I could see the spines. "Is there any order you want them to be put in?"

The old man stretched, and replied that he didn't much mind, as long as it made sense.

That first day I stayed until nearly sunset, shelving books to my standards – who would have known helping out in the library during middle school would be useful? – and the next day, I arrived just after I ate breakfast. The old man – Biranard, as I learned his name was, eagerly accepted my offer of more help, and I put the rest of the bookshelves into order.

"I'm gettin' a bit too old to be running this store," he told me as I worked, gulping from a bottle of Cyrodiilic brandy and gesturing broadly. "I woulda stopped, but… my wife and I built it up, and it's all I've got left to remind me of her. After some fool outlander gave her Black-heart, a blight disease," he explained when I gave him a questioning look, "she just faded away."

"Oh…" I said, not really sure what to say. Frowning slightly, I pulled one book off the shelf and looked at the title. The script it was written in wasn't the one that was common here, and looked rather like Melnics from Tales of Eternia. In fact…

I opened the book to a random page, and started to read it out loud. "And thus the Hero did set off, in search of the Trials moste cruel… Three would be the number, one on each world and one between them."

Biranard gestured towards the book. "You can read that, then?"

I looked up. "Yeah," I replied absently, looking down at the book.

"Take it, then."

"What?" My head shot up as I looked at him.

"I can't sell it, because nobody could read what it says.

* * *

"You do realize this is all your fault, right, Srath?" I mumbled to him in irritation, crouching against the side of a car. His lips compressed, and then he nodded, but a growl and the screech of claws against metal brought us back to our current predicament. 

I guess I should probably explain, huh?

* * *

"Oh, come _on_," I moaned. "Finish up with the god-damned microwave. What are you doing, cooking a turkey?" 

"Actually…" Srath said, a grin beginning to grow on his face as he stepped out of the way, "yes, I am."

"Oh, fuck no. I was just kidding!" I stared in disbelief at the small turkey that was rotating on the little spinny-thing. I wondered briefly what it would be called, then dismissed that as unimportant. "Why are you cooking it in the microwave?"

"The oven is broken," he said laconically. I don't even know what that word means. Go me! Haha.

I looked at the turkey, and back down at the microwave pizza box I held. "…Could I borrow some freezer space?" I asked, holding it up. At Srath's nod, I crossed the kitchen to the freezer. "Whoa. Have enough coffee?" Staring at the rows upon rows of dated freezer bags of coffee beans, I could only reflect on how this is what I thought Greg Sanders' freezer would look like – only it would be full of Blue Hawaiian instead of Columbian.

"No. No, I don't think I do. Want to go buy more with me?" I choked down a laugh and teased him back.

"I don't think your latest boy toy would be happy with you spending so much time with me…" Dead silence was his reply. "Srath?" He stood still, looking resolutely at the wall. "Oh, no, he didn't…"

"He did."

* * *

"Don't move! I want all the cash you have!" 

Naturally, I had to disobey, so I turned to face the speaker. Younger than me, the boy had a desperate look on his pale face. His shaking hands held a gun that seemed too large for him.

I had always wondered how I would react if I was in a store that was being held up - my mind is never quiet, so I always had time to think up the scenarios, script out the dialogue - but like all of the other times, I was totally wrong.

Srath retreated a few steps, raising his hands into the air, but I simply crossed my arms. The boy focused on me when I took a step forward, but then I stopped, staring at him.

"How brave you are," I commened coldly. "You have a gun and everything. Gonna shoot us if we don't obey?"

"Shut you, bitch!" he shouted, aiming at me.

"I wonder," I continued, hoping that my high Speechcraft level applied to real life, "if you'd be so brave if all you had was a knife? If--"

"Shut up!"

"--what you had to do to kill someone wasn't just pull the trigger--"

"I'll shoot you, you bitch!"

"--but to stab, feeling skin resist, and then the feeling of it suddenly giving way--"

"Shut--"

"--the sudden reak of blood, the grating of blade on bone--"

"--up--"

"--their eyes meeting yours, widening with--"

"--shut up--"

"--pain, pulling the knife out, the stain of blood--"

"--shut up!"

"--then the sudden weight as they--"

"Shut up!"

"--collapse against you--"

"Shut up!"

"--eyes dull, mouth open - their bladder releasing--"

"Shut up!"

"--smelling piss, and shit, and blood--"

_"Shut up!"_

"--would you be that brave?"

The boy's eyes were wider then before, and his shaking hands raised the gun higher.

I stumbled backwards, and I could hear the gunshot echoing in my head. Looking down, I saw torn flesh and blood. Looking back at the boy, I shook my head. "I thought not. Such a pity."

I fell into darkness.

* * *

_So, again, sorry. I'd rather let people know it was being discontinued than just leaving it, because I hate it when that happens. And I could have deleted it, but I'd rather leave it up, in case people still wanted to read it._

_Sorry._


End file.
